


Vulnerable

by YumeArashi



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Comfort Sex, M/M, Nightmares, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumeArashi/pseuds/YumeArashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For an assassin, having someone to care about can be a weakness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vulnerable

**Author's Note:**

> Set during AC2. For kinkmeme prompt: http://forkinsocket.livejournal.com/16841.html?thread=458697#t458697

Ezio laughed as he ran along the rooftops, far too fleet for the clumsy guards to ever catch.  He was about to drop down into an alley and make good his disappearance when he heard a shout below him.  “Look, his accomplice!”

Accomplice?  Ezio paused, and the sight that greeted him turned his heart to ice.  Leonardo was backed into a corner, a fearful expression unlike anything that Ezio had ever seen on the artist’s face.  Weaponless, defenseless, he could only hold up his hands imploringly.  Soft hands, used to creating works of beauty - they would not protect him.

Ezio spat a vicious curse and raced back as the guards advanced.  He dropped down from the roof, killing two, but more patrols were already arriving.  However brutally he cut them down, more blocked his path, and he felt a panic that he hadn’t known since his vain attempt to prevent his family’s execution.

His efforts redoubled as Leonardo’s voice rose above the clash of bladed steel, screaming in pain.  The assassin shouted Leonardo’s name, telling him to hold on, telling him Ezio was coming, telling him _anything._  

But by the time Ezio had killed the last guard, it was too late.  A single glance told him that Leonardo was beyond mortal aid - and Leonardo knew it too.  The fine clothing was tattered and soaking through with blood, the artist’s chest a ruined mess.  Even his arms had been slashed and torn where he’d tried futilely to protect himself.

“I’ll get you help,” Ezio murmured desperately anyway, but Leonardo clutched his sleeve.  The familiar, expressive face was taut with fear. 

“Don’t leave me,” he gasped, coughing up blood.  “Please, I don’t want to die alone.”

Instantly, Ezio knelt at his side, folding Leonardo’s hands between his.  They were icy cold already.  “I’m here, don’t be afraid.  I will stay, I swear.”

Leonardo tried to thank him but shuddered in fresh agony.  His heartbeat was slowing, faltering, as his lifeblood stained an ever-widening circle of cobblestones.  “I don’t want to,” he whispered, so weak that Ezio had to bend to hear him.  “I have so much to do still.  To see…to learn…to create…to…”

When no more words came, Ezio shook the artist’s shoulder, crying frantically, “Leonardo!  No, stay with me!  Stay, goddamn you!”  But all of Ezio’s shaking and pleading could do nothing, and he screamed in rage and grief.

 

* * *

 

And then a cold splash of water hit him in the face.  Ezio jerked awake, staring around wildly. 

He was on a cot in the sunny workshop, and a few feet away stood a very anxious Leonardo.  “Mi dispiace, Ezio - I called and called your name, and you would not wake.  I did not know how else to safely rouse you.  And I could not in good conscience leave you to be tormented by such obviously terrible dreams.”

Ezio stared.  A corner of his mind remembered stumbling here exhausted after his last mission and being offered a safe place to sleep, but all that mattered nothing in comparison to the fact that Leonardo stood before him, alive and well.  His body was whole, his clothes unbloodied, his expression without any trace of fear or pain. 

Ezio reached out and grabbed Leonardo’s wrist, and the artist wondered for a split second whether this had been such a safe method for waking the assassin after all.  But the only pain that followed was a too-tight embrace as the younger man crushed Leonardo against his chest.

“You’re all right.  You’re safe.  Thank God, you’re all right,” Ezio murmured, burying his face in the tawny hair.  He spoke the words again and again, as if the chant could cleanse his mind of the horrific images it had conjured.

Realizing what the dream must have been about, Leonardo wrapped his arms around Ezio in turn, rubbing his back soothingly and stroking the dark hair.  “I’m fine, Ezio, perfectly all right.  Whatever you saw, it was nothing more than a dream.  There’s nothing wrong with me at all.”

Ezio nodded mutely, but his grip didn’t loosen.  He leaned back a little, looking into Leonardo’s face searchingly, as if he could not sufficiently reassure himself that the other man was truly all right.

Leonardo gave him a gentle smile.  “You see?  I am not hurt, nor are you.  We are both safe here.  Everything’s all right now.”

Whatever response Leonardo had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t for Ezio to lean in suddenly and press a hard, demanding kiss against the artist’s lips.  His startled reaction was muffled by the kiss, Ezio swallowing the little cry of surprise as his tongue pressed into Leonardo’s mouth.

Leonardo was fairly sure Ezio wasn’t still dreaming, but there was little he could in the face of the unexpected onslaught.  Even if he’d had the strength to break free, he’d been in love with Ezio for far too long to do anything but allow this.

He couldn’t help but wonder, though, just what Ezio had seen in that dream.  Ezio’s kisses were desperate, needy in a way that Leonardo had never imagined the other man could be. 

The artist was a little surprised when Ezio began tugging roughly at their clothes, but not much, and he hastily helped Ezio before the younger man could tear the garments in his impatience.  Ezio’s hands roamed Leonardo’s body, the feel of bare skin warm and whole and healthy beneath his fingers seeming to soothe and excite the assassin’s need all at once.  He devoured Leonardo’s mouth, his hips jerking frantically, blindly, against Leonardo’s.

Leonardo returned the kiss and wrapped his legs around Ezio’s waist, reaching between their bodies to guide the stiff flesh to his entrance.  It would be painful, but if this was what Ezio needed, then Leonardo would gladly give it to him - just like everything else Ezio had ever needed of him.

Ezio gasped as he pressed into Leonardo, and the artist had to fight to keep from tensing up at the long-unfamiliar intrusion.  The lack of preparation must be making it painful for Ezio as well, Leonardo knew, as the dry friction of skin against skin rubbed them both raw.  But Ezio never hesitated, and there was something in his face, in his voice, that was almost pleading in its need.

Leonardo encouraged him, leaning up to kiss Ezio and rub his back, agile fingers seeking out and caressing the many scars littering the bronze skin.  Ezio moaned, a strangely broken sound, and pulled Leonardo closer.  His thrusts became sharper, erratic, and the artist murmured coaxingly in Ezio’s ear until the younger man shuddered and sobbed Leonardo’s name in desperate ecstasy.

Cradling the assassin against his chest, Leonardo gentled him through the last shivers of his climax, wondering if he would ever really know what dreams had caused this.


End file.
